Once we were on fire
Young    rebeliouse   free
We stormed the castles and took to the skies we flew we dreamed
We were ablaze our light setting raging screaming fire to the world around us
When our thoughts could not sit in silence any longer
When the kids were engulfed by a wave of fury of the injustice done by this world before we were even here
We screamed and demanded
OUR VOICES WOULD BE HEARD
But now it rains
Now the cold heavy water blankets the restless
The fire has been drenched in worry and stress
The brutal downpour has distracted all with false life or death
The blaze once 100 feet high now nothing but a charred soul

And all the ones put out by the rain
to tired to fight again,
pray on the generation next
That their fire is enough to best the storm
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search
for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security,
freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence—
out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden—
that we begin to erect idols for ourselves.

Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise,
taking away our fear and shame and isolation.
We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there.
We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it,
and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter.
He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells
to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us.

Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep
aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods.
When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated,
for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally
make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds,
and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us.

It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out,
that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate
fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is
everything we have been so desperately wanting.
It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight
of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally
begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them,
pleading with Him to come and capture us,
crying out to Him to possess us fully.
aviisevil Apr 2014
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Bite into my Soul and taste your dirt
Inflict upon me your rules of hurt
Make a wish in the fountain of blood
Take a sip and you shall conquer the world






Hang me for all the world to see,
Even in my death I shall walk free






Show the strength of your crown,
Let me be chased by your blood hounds
Cut me, scar me, now tell me what you found ?
You walk straight but the world's round







Lock me in a cage so I can't leave,
Even in these walls I shall walk free







Burn my skin to reach my core,
Why break those walls when i've opened that door
Come inside, take away all I know
Feed my hatred by hating me some more







Erase me so I could never be,
Even in my extinction I shall walk free







Tie my hands and give me a blade,
Tell who my enemies are and war shall be made
Whisper to me the words that degrade,
And I'll scream them at the world while you wait








Kill the lullabies so I can never dream,
Even in my nightmares I shall walk free









Now take my hand and lead me to paradise,
Fire of hell blowing through the kingdom of ice  
Sit on your throne and try to swallow your pride
this slave will never be yours for he's the master of his own life








Hang me for all the world to see,
Even in my death I shall walk free
Notes (optional)
PG Sep 2015
A blank page waits for words that it will never see
Created from the head of someone writing a story
Characters, plot, setting, theme, are central to the tale
Without them every narrative is simply guaranteed to fail

Stakes and consequences must exist for someone to pursue
Whether treacherous of heart, or noble, brave, and true
And if these traits stand not alone but mixed in with the rest
That simply adds more intrigue to the outcome of the test

Will he get the girl?  Will she rise above her station?
Can a rags-to-riches fable captivate the nation?
Who done it, where and why?  Are three questions most effective
But often murder requires the help of a detective

These may seem like idle, fragmented bits of a much larger whole
But actually they’re not; every type plays a role
For you see, “someone” mentioned above is not a professional writer
But an individual on a journey, and we all must face it like a fighter

Characters are those you know and love, plot is what you choose to do
Setting is where you live, theme defines what is important to you
So why a fighter you may ask, someone who faces pain and strife?
Because we encounter both good and ill as we write our book of life
Ozioma Ogbaji Apr 2015
Today I feel light and free
As my hair is caressed by the breeze
Bright, beautiful, magical
Today has promised and will fulfil

Today, I rise in glory
Like a Phoenix reborn from ashes
Beautifully clothed in red satin sashes
Glorious like Pegasus on Mount Olympus

Today I rise, I soar in splendour
As the day keeps unveiling all her grandeur
Let the chains of yesterday break away!
Today is here, I will not cling to yesterday!
Frantic for freedom,
It fidgeted in that cage.
Then it pecked at & clipped its own wings/feathers.
One by one, every day.
It assumed that when there would be no wings,
There'd be no freedom to crave for.
And that it would be able to make itself believe
That the cage was in fact, its nest.
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